


It's a Sad Song

by TheWindAndRain



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Greek Mythology AU, Inspired by Hadestown, M/M, Some kind of poetry/lyrical structure???, The Fire Siblings as Persephone, brain vomit sponsored by finals week, my first avatar work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:33:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28039998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWindAndRain/pseuds/TheWindAndRain
Summary: A year in the life of Zuko and Azula.
Relationships: Zuko/Sokka (referenced)
Kudos: 16





	It's a Sad Song

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I am new to the Avatar AO3 tag but here to share a (bad) one-shot I wrote and never published. I might be talking into the void but if I am -- hello void! 
> 
> I know this is far from perfect, but I wanted to put it up as a sort of introduction I guess? I hope to write a longer, not one-shot over my upcoming break from school, so we'll see how that goes!

It was December, and they were miserable. It had been months since they saw the place they loved so much, the place they longed to call home once again. Months since they were free from their father’s oppressive rule. Months since they were truly at peace. They wanted nothing more than to have that feeling back, but it always seemed unattainable.

It was January, and they were despondent. They were growing restless in the shadowy realm, growing restless of facing the dead at every turn. They remembered the taste of fresh fruit, the feel of warmth on their faces. They remembered having nothing to worry about except for where they would be relaxing the next day. They remembered it all, yet the memories seemed more like dreams that would never come true. 

It was February, and they were hopeful. The remote fantasy finally seemed palpable. One more month of suffering and then it was over, then they would be in the place spoken of in hushed whispers day in and day out. If they could make it just four more weeks, they would be able to forget about the literal hell they were trapped in until the inevitable occurred again. 

It was March, and they were free. It was finally a reality again. They had the sun, they had the oceans, they had the sky, they had everything they could ever want. Every worry and every struggle melted away with the thawing ice, drifted down the streams which they spent all of their time near. What seemed like cold to those who lived under the clouds all year was nothing compared to what they knew as cold. 

It was April, and they were thrilled. Nothing could hurt them; Ozai was hardly more than a passing thought, no more important than the faded memories of the tortured souls trapped within his realm. There was nothing but rolling hills and boundless forests for them to explore now, and for once, everything seemed perfect. It was times like these when the siblings forgot that they were not invincible. But then again, once they had each other, and they were living in such natural splendor, it seemed as though they just might be shielded from any harm the world could possibly throw at them.

It was May, and they were grateful. Grateful for it all, grateful for the time they were allotted above-ground, even if it wasn’t as much as they would have liked. Ursa was from the overworld, and her only request to the king of the shadowed realm before she disappeared forever was that he granted her children the privilege of experiencing real life for at least a portion of each year. Even the mighty ruler knew that it was too harsh to keep them locked underground for their entire lives. Even Ozai’s cruel heart melted enough to offer his children six months in the sun. And for this, they were grateful.

It was June, and they were serene. They knew what was coming, it lingered in the back of their minds, but they allowed themselves to push it back and ignore the feelings which accompanied those thoughts. Zuko spent his days with the boy at the edge of the woods, the one with sparkling blue eyes and a laugh that filled Zuko with hope and lips that made Zuko’s heart soar when they pressed against his. He thought that maybe, just maybe, if he pretended the underworld didn’t exist, they would never have to go back.  Azula knew better than this, but she liked to entertain the fantasy every once in a while. Zuko, on the other hand, believed that the despised place would just fade away if he paid no mind to it. As always, Azula knew best.

It was July, and they were content. The reality was beginning to dawn on them once again, and it was slowly becoming more difficult to continue about with the daily joy that they carried in past months. Zuko took longer to realize the crushing weight of the impending journey, and  Azula was thankful for that. She let him spend his days with his blue-eyed boy, she let him live in his fantasy for just a few more weeks.

It was August, and they were preparing. By this time, Zuko realized what was going to happen, no matter how much his sister attempted to shield him from the situation. There was no delaying the impossible, and although he always caught on last, he couldn’t run from it forever. The best Azula could do for him now was to console him, to promise they would get to come back in just six short months. Convincing him to be happy, to flash that infectious smile of his, almost made her forget about what was coming. Almost.

It was September, and they were brought home. The journey back was long and hard, especially with the knowledge of what was waiting for them on the other side. At least when they were coming up, the journey didn’t seem so bad because they knew they would be greeted with life. When they were descending, they both knew that only death awaited. With each passing year, they only seemed to grow more heavy-hearted in the dark, cold world. Perhaps this was because they were older and they no longer had the creativity they needed to keep themselves entertained, the kind that belonged only to children. Perhaps the wedge Ozai drove between his children in the wake of Ursa’s disappearance was finally splitting them apart as they grew up.

It was October, and they were mourning. Once again in a state of complete despair, the siblings saw no hope in anything. Zuko no longer smiled, and  Azula no longer had the energy left to console him. She tried her best, but there was little she could work with when everything seemed dull and lifeless. Azula did not cry, did not ever cry, yet the oppressive sadness of the dim world weighed her down just the same as it did to Zuko. But crying was for the weak, and she needed to prove to Ozai that she was not weak. 

It was November, and they were anguished. The darkness seemed perpetual, the walls seemed to close in upon them with each passing day. They began to wonder if they would ever see any of it again; the sky, the clouds, the water, the trees, they all seemed like a savage joke dangled before them and then ripped away. The suffering seemed endless, the light at the end of the tunnel perpetually out of reach. 

It was December.

  
  



End file.
